Fools One

Unlike Kaimana, the trip there was relatively uneventful.

Bailey, Wickner, Julie and I departed from NJ only slightly late and picked up one Elizabeth Lamm at BWI on the way down. Two would have been too many. I think that I had promised to call Nic when I arrived but I quite simply forgot. Fast-forward to the next morning.

We all roll up to the fields in our Country Club attire (except for Ms. Lamm as she had a "better" team to play with or something) to numerous stares and glances. It likely doesn't help that we've got 2 dozen donuts, a box of coffee, a bottle of Bailey's and a nalgene of Mint Julep. As we prepare for the first game (with Julie of Flash Taco as an interloper), Nic goes into a long speech with some key words for everyone:

Our goal is to play just well enough over the first two days that we have a first round bye on Sunday but not so well that we'll need to stay here all day on Sunday.

Our first opponent, Freakshow, doesn't seem to know what's coming. By not knowing what's coming, of course, I mean that they jump out to a lead and have players who run hard. Actual conversation on the line:

Nic: Who wants hairy mouthpiece guy?
Me: You do. You're the only one who has actually played defense.
Bailey: Yeah Nic, you're not drunk yet-- go play some D.
Nic: No way. Dusty, i've read your blog. I know you're in shape. He's all yours.
Me: Fuck you. He's taller than me and you know that despite my monkey arms I play short.
Nic: He's all yours man.
Me: I hate you.
Bailey: If you do a bad enough job, we won't make you cover him again.
Me: Sweet.

In any case, this team is definitely running on both offense and defense in addition to throwing to underneath cuts. None of these have been stressed as strategic choices we should make on our team. In fact, the prevailing wisdom is that the more hucks we throw, the easier the game will be.

This was a tight game the whole way, but at some point we definitely made a run to take the lead. The point at which this occurred may have been double-game point, it may not have. We won a close one, which was much more satisfying than not winning it. There were definitely some familiar faces on this team. Including the aforementioned hairy mouthpiece guy who called me a "b-team freshman college handler" at Gettysburg when I was a senior at NYU. That memory has always stuck in my craw. I don't hold it against him specifically, but it always fires me up for some reason.

The next game was right afterward on the same field, although we definitely wandered off thinking that we had a bye that round and got called back. This was against the Sperm Whales. I don't know why anyone would choose that name, exactly. The website says they're from Connecticut. I don't think that this excuses them in any way. CT is just another suburb of NYC anyway.

This team was running much harder than the first. I think I may have recognized some people on this team, but I could be wrong. Friday is a long time ago. Of course, by about half-time in this game all of our team was drinking heavily and running lightly, if at all. Yes, even lazier than the first game. I honestly can't remember much of anything about this game other than we lost and they won. Just goes to show what taking the game seriously can get you!

Then The Bye came. This is what the team had come here for! Freeeeeee BEEEeeeerrrr! Surivor Flip Cup! Joe Lott (not on our team) getting kicked out of the beer garden! General Entertaining Trivialities! Awkward Conversations! People You Recognize! People you think you may have argued in a game! Drinking Games! Excitement!

The next round was against Tastes Like Chicken. I don't remember anything other than not losing. I don't know who was on the team, what the game was like, who did what, or, well, anything. This is for a fairly obvious reason, methinks.

At some point in time during one of these two games I lost my head and went to get a D. This may have actually happened more than once, but this is the only one I remember. There was a high throw into the endzone and I was trailing my man. I knew the disc was mine as I overtook the inside position on the OI backhand. I jumped, got the D and came down on my right foot. More accurately, my right heel.

I crumpled as a pain shot through the inside of my foot and up to a spot just above my ankle. I stood up, put no weight on it and called for a sub while hopping/limping off the field. I didn't twist it in any direction, but rather I seem to have jammed it against the ground with my full weight/momentum crashing down on it. I gently felt the ankle to discovered which connective tissue had been damaged and where. When I discovered it, I tried doing a little massage on it to determine how bad the pain was. Not too bad, actually. I stood back up and did some cutting and hopping. No significant pain. I then shook my foot around a little.

FUCK!

Suffice to say, if I had to play soccer, I would be unable. The ligament that I injured is apparently the tibionavicular part of the deltoid ligament. This means that I've managed to injure my ankle in a way that is similar to only 15% of all ankle injuries. Twice. In fact, the first time that I played ultimate was a result of this very injury....

[FLASHBACK]
After 7th grade I attended CTY aka "nerd camp" due to some unusually high test scores. I played soccer every afternoon after class (Mine was writing, I think. The teacher found my writing lazy, much like me. She was right) until i sprained my ankle. Seeing as how I was a very active young man, I decided that I would play ultimate (because I wouldn't have to kick anything). A natural choice considering that everyone there played ultimate and I had often tossed with the kids on my floor.

So, I went out and impressed everyone because I took to the hammer like a fish to water. I couldn't throw a flick for some reason. Damn. All the Asian kids looked so cool with their flicks. I couldn't do it for the life of me. I wanna be cool too. So I signed up for the ultimate tournament that was starting soon with some friends (some were athletic and some weren't). I spent the next 4-5 days throwing constantly with everyone. Only throwing flicks. All of the time. I stunk. I hit everyone and everything. Squirrels, kids at basketball camp, teachers, kids at soccer camp, college kids, windows and everything in between. By the the time the weekend came, I still couldn't throw a flick 5 yards. I hadn't even figured out how to grip it yet, despite the best efforts of some friends. We went to the tournament and got destroyed.

I hated it. I may have touched a disc a handful of times prior to college.
[END FLASHBACK]

I ended up going back into the game after a couple of points out under the agreement that I would not be required to run on defense or offense. I could if I wanted to, but it was not expected. Whichever game it was, we won it. Which was good.

We then piled into the car in search of food with Julie our scary though utterly sober driver behind the wheel. Having been to these fields twice every year (Regionals/Fools) since 2003 will certainly help us find a suitable dining establishment. Well... not so much. We drive down the miracle mile in direction A. A being either north or south. We then see a large yellow building that promises both alcohol and Mexican food. Sweet.

Margaritas were had.

A "Super Burrito" was almost consumed by me for a free meal courtesy of Elizabeth. I got to the last bite and simply decided that it wasn't worth it. That bite could not have been purchased for $15. It would not have paid for my hospital stay because my stomach would have exploded. Or at least I would have vomited. No way. I could blame the half bag of trail mix or some of the other junk food that I consumed while drinking, but that would be an excuse. In the end, I lost to the super burrito.

This seemingly minor loss would come back to haunt me the next day...
--
Workout Total:
15 Minutes Ankle Rehab
15 Minutes Core